It's All In Your Head
by SocietalFlub
Summary: A 15 year-old girl is about to do the unthinkable when the Doctor and Clara show up. Turns out the demon in her head isn't just her- it's an alien from another world trying to eat her soul. Will the Doctor be able to save this girl and countless others from the suffering these aliens cause? TW see A/N
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This could be triggering for some people, please read with caution (suicide ideation, slightly morbid thoughts). Please only positive reviews, this story is based on a very personal true event. This is dedicated to Caitlin, one of the sweetest people I ever knew, who recently took her own life. May she be in a better place now.**

'Get out, get out, get out!'

The girl was sobbing on the floor of her parents' kitchen, the hard wood cool against her skin. She clutched at her hair, raking her scalp in desperation.

'GET OUT!' she screamed again.

She was alone in the big house that she hated, it was prison-like and foreboding in its size. However, the house was like time-out corner when compared to the penitentiary of her mind: trapped in her body, Catherine was desperate for salvation.

The monstrous, demonic voice in her head was like her own; it had a hint of femininity behind it, but it was distorted, gravelly and low in pitch. It was forcefeeding the young woman morbid lies.

_You will never make it._

_ They won't miss you, they will be relieved when you're gone._

_ You can't take this, you are weak. WEAK._

The voice was so persuasive to her; she knew it was right.

Hiccoughing and gasping for air, Catherine was hyperventillating, but she knew what she wanted—had—to do.

She was suddenly upstairs—she couldn't remember her feet having taken her there. Her feet were heavily trudging but she'd lost all tactile feeling. The only thing her brain could focus on was the overwhelming, overpowering desire to make the voice go away, give it what it wanted: for her life to end.

Seeming to glide rather than walk, her way was made to the master bathroom. After crossing the threshold, she dropped on her knees and crawled the few feet to the cabinet under the sink. Behind the cupboard door lay an economy-sized box of plastic shaving razors among the bottles of cologne and extra bars of soap.

Seizing the box with trembling hands, Catherine swiftly retrieved a razor and scampered to her room down the hall. She didn't care what mess she made, she wanted to be in the only place she found solace in.

Crouched on the carpet, she desperately broke the head off the razor. Just as she was wondering how to get the blade out without mangling her hands (she would need them for what she was planning to do), the girl heard a funny sort of mechanical sound, growing louder every second.

She paused, her trembling hands clutching the blade by its plastic shell.

_wwhrrRRR... wwhrrRRR... wwhrrRRR... wwhrrRRR_

Where a heap of dirty clothes several layers thick had lain before was now a massive box a bit wider than the phone boxes she'd seen in the city. It was wider, and a shade of royal blue she fancied.

The massive box stood about seven feet tall, its majestic dominance enthralling the room.

With a slow creak, the right door of two opened. A scrawny, gangly sort of bloke jumped off the one-inch ledge, landing surprisingly deftly on Catherine's bedroom carpet—he moved as though he were made of cooked spaghetti, as though he would fall over if he took a step.

The man looked around the room, tugging his blazer straight. Hands hovering near his bow-tie, he finally locked eyes with the girl, who was kneeling on the floor petrified, razor still in hand.

'Hello there,' he said warmly. 'And who are you?'

'Wh—who are _you_?' The way she'd worded it in her head sounded much more confident, but the young woman was in shock at a box materialising in her bedroom and a man walking out of it.

'I'm the Doctor,' said the aforementioned man with a grin.

'Right... Doctor. Erm, what... what are you doing here?'

'Yeah, Doctor, what _are_ we doing here?' came a suave female voice from the box. A petite, brunette woman stepped out with hardly as much flourish as this mysterious Doctor had. She looked around to find the girl and smiled kindly at her.

Catherine, feeling demure and foolish on the floor, stood up, hiding the blade behind her back with one hand and wiping her tears as best she could with the other. She sniffled as the Doctor spoke again, who was looking at her with a furrow on his forehead.

'This young lady can tell us; I received a strong neurological signal from here, a sort of message, but the only thing the TARDIS could read was that it was a negative signal. So,' he continued, beginning to pace the room, 'there's something wrong, but you appear to be alright. I know what that looks like,' he added, eyebrows lowering in sadness. 'But never mind that,' said the Doctor, eyes brightening again. 'What did you say your name was?'

'Catherine,' the girl said in little more than a whisper.

'Catherine! Beautiful name. Now, Catherine.' He pulled out her desk chair and sat down, spinning a full revolution then sticking out his foot to stop, facing the girl. The Doctor's companion had found a seat on the edge of Catherine's bed. 'Why has your brain summoned us here?'

She swallowed to try to ease the discomfort forming in her throat. 'Dunno. Everything's fine here! Nothing wrong or anything!'

'Then what're you doing with that razor?' asked Clara gently. She rose from the bed and took the hands of Catherine, which had fallen to her sides in defeat. Avoiding the blade, Clara took the head of the razor from the girl, and, swivelling her own head, she located the bin next to the desk. After walking over and chucking out the potential weapon, the Doctor's companion came back to Catherine.

'I wasn't doing anything with it, I just... had it,' the girl said, starting out defiant but ending weakly.

'Catherine, what would you have done if Clara and I hadn't come here?' said the man cautiously.

Catherine's eyes were cast downward in shame, the realisation of what she had almost done overcoming her. Choosing not to answer on account of the tears forming once more in her eyes, her lips pressed together as she tried not to bawl outright in front of the two kindly strangers.

However, in spite of her effort, her already-moist eyes betrayed Catherine as the tears again began to roll down her face as though with purpose. She inhaled deeply, shuddering as she wailed against her will.

Clara quickly pulled Catherine into a hug, the young girl's tears muffled by Clara's jacket.

'Hey hey hey, it's okay, there, sweetie, let it out.' Clara was rubbing her back soothingly, her voice soft and maternal.

After a minute or two, the sobs slowed and were reduced to sniffles once more. Catherine pulled away, drying her hears and wiping her nose on the sleeve of her tee shirt. Setting herself down on the floor, leaning against the closed door of the TARDIS, Catherine was resigned.

Taking a deep breath, she started. 'I was about to kill myself.' The Doctor frowned, Clara furrowed in compassion. 'It was this voice in my head, see. It was telling me all these awful things, and it wouldn't stop. It was... demonic. It sounded like me, but not really. It was evil. It wanted me to die, and I believed everything I was saying, I just needed to get out of here, out of this life. I guess that's what your box sensed from me.'

The Doctor's face was pained as he replied. 'Thank you for telling us, Catherine. You are so strong,' he said standing up. 'But now that you're being honest, Clara here and I have our own secrets to tell.' He walked over to the TARDIS, rubbing his hand over the smooth painted-blue wood. 'First off, this isn't just a box, it's a space-ship and a time-machine. Anywhere in time and space, this old girl can take you. Clara and I, we're time-travellers.'

'What time are you from?'

'Well, I'm a little more than 900 years old, from the planet Gallifrey.'

'Y—you mean you're not human?! You look human...' Catherine trailed off.

'Looks can be deceiving.'

She turned to Clara. 'And are you a thousand year-old alien too?'

Clara laughed. 'No, I'm just a 22 year-old human. Just out of curiosity, how old are you?'

'15. I know, I look about 12. I hate how short I am.'

'I thought you were older. You seem wise,' said Clara, clearly trying to make the girl feel better.

Catherine smirked. 'I guess depression does that to you.

'So, you lot are time-travellers, why would you come here? I'm nothing special.'

'I've never met anyone before that wasn't special. I believe there's something in your brain that's making this happen,' the Doctor said.

'You think? Something like this has never happened to me before, but what if I'm just schizophrenic? I mean, I don't know if it just pops up like this, but it's like the only explanation, wouldn't it be?'

'I'm not so sure it is,' the Doctor said, pushing off from his leaning position on the TARDIS and reaching into his jacket pocket. 'Now Catherine,' he said pulling a funny-looking sort of tool out, 'this is a sonic screwdriver. I'm going to point it at your head to try to read what's going on with it. I promise you, it won't hurt a bit.'

The Doctor tossed his sonic screwdriver into the air so it flipped and he caught it deftly, pointing it with precision at the young girl's head. Pressing a button, a mechanical warble came from the device.

'Aaah, AHHHHH, NO, make it stop, MAKE IT STOP! STOP IT...'

Catherine immediately fell to the floor sobbing, hitting her fists against her forehead.

The Doctor was taken aback, his eyes widening and a furrow forming as he stepped away. Clara had been sedentary until that point; she slipped off the bed and sank to her knees to comfort the teenager as she writhed on the ground. The Doctor's companion swept Catherine into a hug, the girl gladly accepting it and sobbing into Clara's shoulder.

It was a moment before Catherine could calm down, but once she was again reduced to mere sniffles, she pulled away and leaned against her bed, still sitting on the floor.

'He's angry. Whatever you did, that demon is angry. He—he was roaring, growling, making an awful noise. Doctor, please, what's wrong with me?'

The Doctor's face went from worried to confused. He sat across from her, crossing his long legs as best he could and resting his arms on his knees. 'You said demon, why did you call it a demon?'

'I—I dunno.' Catherine seemed shocked at her own word choice. 'This voice that's in my head, it doesn't sound like me. It does a little, but there's something to it that seems like a monster. Like a monster that wants only evil. I don't believe in heaven or hell, but this... this thing, inside of me... nothing on Earth could be this evil, I don't think.'

Studying the sonic screwdriver still in hand, he was able to make out something obviously discernible to him, although when Catherine glanced at it, there was no writing to be seen.

What the Doctor had read from the Sonic seemed to trouble him. His eyes lowered as he put the tool back in the inside pocket of his jacket.

'Catherine,' he said, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, 'I don't mean to frighten you when I say this, but you've got a right to know. You're right. This voice in your head isn't from this world. However, it's not a demon. I believe it's an alien, like me, only this one is malignant. It's called a dargrecian, from the planet Dargrepitus. I knew about this kind, but I didn't know they had come to Earth. Suppose they've finally gained the intelligence to travel between galaxies—a wonder, considering how one-track their minds are: their sole purpose in life is to suck the soul of other beings. That's how they stay alive, by detaching their souls from their bodies and... affixing themselves to other creatures. That way they can live longer, until their hosts die. They've got a very short life span, see, so to live longer, they grab on to those creatures with a higher mortality rate. However, in the process, they cause immense suffering to whatever being they've grasped onto. And, when they've done whatever it is they set out to do, they... they cause their host to die.'

Catherine was petrified. Eyes widened and mind reeling, she spoke, her voice wavering. 'So, what you're saying is, the reason I almost killed myself... is because the alien inside my head has done its job?'

The Doctor finally found the courage to look the girl in the eye.

'Yes. Its soul is now strong enough to move on to the next species, probably human, until it eventually gets strong enough to go back to its original, dargrecian, body.'

'Doctor, what can we do? We can't just let this, this dargrecian thing suck her soul!'

'We won't let you suffer, Catherine. We're going to find a way to get this thing out of you. But you have to be very strong. You're going to get through this.'

The Doctor clapped his hands together, the sombre expression leaving and a cheery grin taking its place. 'Now, we've some research to do! Would you like to join me and Clara?'

Catherine looked about the room, glancing at the door. Thinking of the family who wouldn't miss her, she looked to the Doctor and Clara with a determined expression.

'Love to.'


	2. Chapter 2

'Right,' the Doctor said, patting his blue box, 'this is the TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. As I said, it can travel anywhere in time and space- sorry for barging into your room, by the way—however, today we'll just be sticking to present-day Earth. Care to come inside, ladies?' Suavely pushing open the door for Catherine, he grinned in anticipation.

'All three of us? In that dinky little box?'

'Oi, my box isn't dinky! It's got character! Go inside and see for yourself.'

Sceptical, Catherine tiptoed past the Doctor and entered the TARDIS tentatively. Her eyes widened as she stood just over the threshold, taking everything in.

'But... how does it... WHAT?!'

The Doctor smirked and looked to Clara. 'Wait for it...'

'It's massive!'

He frowned. 'Well then.'

Once they were all inside, Clara asked, 'Doctor, where are we going?'

'Your nearest psychiatric office! Where would that be?'

'Lucky for you, my parents've got me seeing a shrink, so I can actually answer that. It's downtown.'

'Then downtown we shall go!'

The Doctor pressed a large button before flipping switches and working more mechanisms than Catherine could ever imagine. The centre column began to pump as the whirring sound began again with a jolt to the passengers of the TARDIS.

A swooping feeling resounded in Catherine's gut as she gained her stability.

'Doctor, are we... flying?'

He looked to her with a grin. 'Yep.'

'This is incredible!' The smile fell from her face, though, as a sudden thought entered her mind. 'Doctor, won't people notice a massive blue box flying through the sky?'

'I've put on the invisibility feature... at least, I think I have...' With a thump that unsettled the travellers off their feet, the Doctor spoke again. 'Well, it doesn't matter anyway, we've landed.'

'Have we really?' said the girl sarcastically, getting up and rubbing a sore spot on her elbow.

The trio made their way out of the TARDIS and across the street—Catherine was surprised to see how close the Doctor had landed to the clinic; both Clara and the Doctor did, too.

A bell above the door jingled as they walked in with Catherine leading the way. They three congregated around the rounded reception desk, which was settled in the front corner of the waiting room. The rest of the square-shaped room was filled with stiff-looking chairs and coffee-tables on which sat recent copies of trashy magazines. Near the back of the room were three doors, leading to what Catherine knew to be the therapists' offices. The wall that was unoccupied by chairs or the reception desk was host to tall grey filing cabinets. The room was dismal, and Catherine hated to be there for longer than necessary.

The Doctor pulled out a leathery sort of wallet from his jacket's inner pocket and opened it to show the woman sitting behind the computer monitor before she could say anything; when Catherine looked at what was inside of it, it turned out to be a blank piece of paper.

The Doctor noticed her looking astonished at it and said, 'I'll explain later.' He turned back to the receptionist. 'Right, as you can tell by who we are,' he said vaguely, 'we're here to conduct a research study on depression. We'll need the files of every patient here for treatment of just such a diagnosis.'

Suspicious, the receptionist asked again to see his identification, and, after the Doctor flashed again his paper, she agreed to get the files.

As she stiffly walked over to the wall of cabinets (Catherine figured she'd been sitting all day), the Doctor turned to his newest companion. 'Psychic paper,' he whispered, 'shows a person whatever they want to see.'

'Brilliant,' she whispered to no one in particular.

The woman came back with a massive stack of files; there had to have been at least a score under her arms as she was staggering to try to keep them all in balance as she walked.

'That many people suffering from depression in this city alone?' Clara said looking to the files. 'It's so sad that that many people have to go through that.'

'Well,' the Doctor said, low enough so that the receptionist couldn't hear, 'we're going to find out what makes them sad and hopefully we can get rid of it. No one is going to be sad for very long if I can help it.

'Right then, thanks very much, we'll just be on our way now,' he said, the woman back at the desk and handing over the files.

'Wait!' the woman called before the Doctor could whisk away. 'You're not permitted to leave with those files. They can't leave the building.'

His face fell. Looking from Clara to Catherine, a determined look took the place of one of dismay. 'Well, girls, make yourselves comfortable, this might take awhile.'

/

'That's Bieterman, B-I-E-T-E-R-M-A-N. Got everything for Francine Bieterman, then?'

The Doctor was reading aloud the contact information of every person the files contained while Clara transcribed the information into a small notebook.

'Yep, got her. This is tedious, Doctor; how many more are there?' she whinged.

'You'll be happy to know, that was the last one.'

Catherine's ears perked up at that, and, taking the single earbud out of her ear, asked excitedly, 'Now what're we going to do?' Now that the boring bit was over, she figured the real adventure would start.

'We're going to talk to all of these patients,' said the Doctor.

Noticing Catherine's pout, he laughed. 'Not exactly the sort of fun you thought we'd be having, eh?'

'Not exactly, no.'

'Well, just you wait, a day with this big goober is always an adventure,' Clara said with a smile and a wink.

'Yes it is, but I'll do with a little less sass if you please, Clara,' he said fixing his bow-tie affrontedly.

/

Living at an apartment building in the next town over was the first subject on their list: a girl called Jessica. The three travellers walked up the rusty metal steps to the third storey and down the outdoor corridor until they reached the door Clara had been looking out for.

The Doctor pulled at his blazer and knocked briskly.

The front door opening cautiously, a skeletal girl with choppy black hair peeked her enormous eyes round.

'Hallo!' said the only man of the group. 'Is this the home of one Jessica Hayes?'

'That's me,' the girl said, opening the door wider. She looked a few years older than Catherine, yet not an adult. 'Can I help you?'

'Yes, actually, you would be of immense help to us. See, it's in our records that you're suffering from depression, and my friends here and I are conducting a bit of research...' The Doctor trailed off after seeing the venomous look on Jessica's face.

'Where do you get off, coming to a stranger's house and acting like you know everything, Mr High-and-Mighty? It would be of immense help to _me_ if you left. Sod off, I'm not interested!'

The door slammed closed.

'Well. That went a bit not-good.'

'You think?' asked Clara. 'Next time, let me do the talking, yeah?'

'That would probably be best,' agreed the Doctor.

/

A TARDIS ride later, the gang was parked outside a quaint house on the outskirts of Catherine's town. A low garden fence enveloped the property, which was sparse of bare space: a lavish flower garden took up most of the yard, and where there weren't flowers, there were bird-baths, a sundial, and lots of garden ornaments; little mushrooms and gnomes who had lanterns decorated the edge of the small cement-paved path to the door.

Clara, the Doctor, and Catherine went single file down the aisle stemming from the sidewalk. The head of the line waited until every member of the party was on the front step before fixing her hair and ringing the bell.

It was a moment before the three heard footsteps getting louder on the other side. The door opened slowly to reveal an elderly woman, probably in her seventies, Catherine figured.

Clara took a breath before speaking. 'Hello there! Can I just say, what a beautiful home you've got!'

'Well thank you, that's very sweet of you to say,' the woman said with a charming smile, accentuating the wrinkles on her face that showed she had smiled like that many times before.

'Now, to business,' Clara began. 'I'm Clara, and these are my colleagues the Doctor and Catherine. The reason we're here is that we're conducting a research study. Have you or anyone in your household had any experiences with depression that you would be willing to talk about? There's absolutely no obligation whatsoever.'

'You've come to just the right person, actually,' the kindly woman said. 'Would you like to come in for a cuppa?'

'That would be wonderful!'

The woman let them in, introducing herself. 'I'm Imogene Prince, and welcome to my home. Been living here for fifty-two years. I considered moving once my husband passed away last year, but I just couldn't leave this old place, I love it too much.'

'It really is lovely,' chimed in Catherine.

'Oh ta, you're an absolute dear.

She led them to the sitting room and said, 'I've just put the kettle on, let me check up on it. Go ahead and make yourselves at home.' And with that, she whisked away.

'Well she seems nice,' Clara said.

'She does,' the Doctor agreed, ' but it's hard to believe she's depressed, she seems so happy.'

'People with depression are the best liars. Every smile is a fake and takes effort at that, and when you're at the worst, it's easy to say you're great because you're so used to lying. Sometimes you're so content with feeling shitty, the happiness is just well-executed, believable sarcasm.' Catherine had been staring at the carpet and looked up, blushing. She wasn't accustomed to saying so much in one sitting. 'I would know, is all.'

Neither the Doctor nor Clara knew quite what to say to that, so the three sat in awkward silence until Imogene came back with a the tea things and a plate of biscuits on a tray.

'Now, what was it you were here for? Research, was it?'

A brief pause resounded as Clara and Catherine were waiting for the Doctor to speak up, but he was lost in a Jammie Dodger. Noticing, he looked up.

'Oh,' he said, crumbs flying out of his mouth as he exhaled. 'Right.' He swallowed. 'Would you be so terribly kind as to tell us your story? What happened with the depression and all?'

Imogene smiled fondly at the Doctor. 'It was the strangest thing. See, when I was a kid, this was the forties and fifties, mind you, I was totally happy, my life was splendid. But when I was about fifteen, I became _incredibly _depressed, for no reason, it seemed. I mean, it was just unfathomable how depressed I was. My family spent all this money, back when money was still tight, on antidepressants and therapists, but nothing worked. For a little more than three years, I was miserable. I wanted to end it all, many times, but I couldn't leave my brother and sister, they meant to much to me. So I stayed miserable. However, when I was eighteen, a few weeks before my nineteenth birthday, I woke up one day, and the feeling... it was gone! I felt completely and utterly happy. Happy doesn't even properly describe how I felt that day. And I'd had my ups and downs with the depression, some days would be better than others, but this... this was completely different. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt that way. It truly was a miracle.

'And since that day I haven't had any relapses. I am happy as a clam, fit as a fiddle, what have you—I'm great! I guess my waiting paid off'

'Well, that's just fantastic to hear!' Clara said. 'Do you think that's enough information, Doctor?'

The Doctor had been munching on Jammie Dodgers throughout the whole of the activity, but when he heard his name, he looked up like a kid caught eating out of the cookie jar before dinner.

'Sorry, what? Oh, information, yes, I think we're all set.'

'The tea was lovely, and thanks so much for sharing,' Clara said standing up. 'I think we're done here, you lot.'

With that the three time-travellers got up and thanked Imogene, making their way out and back to the TARDIS.

/

Clara, the Doctor, and Catherine made four more trips to survivors' homes, and each time, their findings were similar: around the age of fifteen, the person would fall victim to depression, then around nineteen, it would suddenly leave them, as though nothing had happened.

Sitting on a chair near the TARDIS console, Clara piped up as the Doctor was apparently thinking everything through. 'Doctor, doesn't this seem rather fishy to you?'

'Fishy indeed. I think these people all had dargrecians inside their heads, too. Which means an awful lot.'

The girls looked blankly at the Doctor.

'Oh, come on, don't you see?!' He paused.

'Catherine, you're going to get through this.'

**A/N: Not the end! I think one more chapter will be suffice. Please let me know what you thought, any fallacies you found, anything! I want to know if you're liking this! Thanks for sticking round, but it might be an even longer wait depending on whether I put school or writing first (I've been on spring break this week). If you do bear with me, you won't be disappointed (I hope)! I hope your life is going lovely, dear reader 3**


	3. Chapter 3

'Do you really think anyone'll come?' inquired Catherine.

'_Someone_ is bound to show up, I think.'

'Yeah, we sure put up enough adverts for it,' Clara chimed in.

'But what if they don't?' A furrow marked the young girl's forehead, her eyes widened in worry.

The Doctor had been removing chairs from a stack and placing them in a circle as Catherine was voicing her concerns. Without even looking at her, he could sense the apprehension budding in her. He turned to face her and walked up, placing his hands on her shoulders in a fatherly sort of way.

'Hey,' he said. 'I don't want you worrying any more about this, alright? Even if no one shows, we'll have done our best, yeah?'

'If they don't show up, they'll keep suffering,' she said, averting her eyes from his powerful gaze. 'I don't want people to keep being unhappy, it's not fair!' In her fervour, she looked up with more confidence. 'It's not fair that I'll get to know that it gets better and they won't. What if somebody gives up? I'll feel like it's my fault for not showing them what you've shown me.'

'I promise you, I will personally reach out to every person I can, even if it means flying the TARDIS into their bedroom unannounced. I won't stop until Earth knows about the dargrecians.'

This answer seemed to satisfy Catherine. She nodded and broke eye contact again.

Clara glanced up from the refreshment table which was sat near the door to the room, steadying the stack of paper cups. Catherine seemed lost in her own world, gazing morosely at her shoes in the centre of the room. The Doctor had whisked away, not even seeming to notice the girl. But Clara _had_ noticed, and would have none of it.

'Hey,' she said gently, walking over to the spot where Catherine hadn't yet moved from. 'This is gonna work, you know. Some people won't want to be helped, but others will, and you're capable of doing that. Like the Doctor said, we'll try everything in our power to help these people. So chin up, yeah?'

Catherine smiled tryingly. 'Okay.'

Clara had taken Catherine's hands in hers, and as she was squeezing them, the Doctor called out to them from the doorway.

'They're here! Places, everyone!'

The ladies looked back at each other and rolled their eyes at his childish glee. They moved to the entrance of the library's meeting hall to greet the guests to their gathering, which had been advertised as a 'Depression Resource Seminar'.

First in was a middle-aged woman with grey hair and thick spectacles on her nose. She smiled gently at the trio in her passing. Following her was a boy not much past the teen age, about twenty. Dark circles under his eyes, he didn't return Clara's smile.

A timorous girl walked in with a woman who appeared to be her mother; she looked to be about Catherine's age. At seeing Catherine, she blushed and stopped, turning to the woman with her.

'Mum, you can leave now, I'm fine.' The girl, a tall blonde, smiled at Catherine.

/

Over the course of the next ten minutes, a dozen more people showed up.

'Right, welcome, everybody! Shall we go around the room and introduce ourselves? I'm the Doctor.'

'I'm Clara.'

'I'm Catherine.'

Next to her, the blonde girl who had shown up with her mother looked up from her hands shyly. 'Oh, hi, my name is Gwen.'

Around the circle they went, each saying their names. The Doctor and Clara then leapt right into the tale of the darcrecians. It was no shock that aliens were on Earth, given the Christmas days' fiascos, but many people looked startled at the idea that they were actually inside of them, understandably so. Then everyone was given the opportunity to share their personal stories, which all started off similarly.

'So, in conclusion,' the Doctor said with a tone of finality, 'these dargrecians _will_ leave you. For some it will take longer, but do know that this is not permanent. If you wait it out, they will die—they won't make you or anyone else sad ever again. I have heard of how distortive the effects are. What these monsters are doing to you is despicable, but I believe every single one of you have the strength to outlive them. I believe in you all. Thank you so much for coming.'

Everyone filed out of the meeting room, thanking the hosts. After cleaning up, the TARDIS was flown back to Catherine's house.

Standing in her foyer shrouded with a feeling of accomplishment, Catherine was glowing.

'So Doctor, where do we go from here? I mean, this was brilliant, but it's just a few people. I'm glad they know about it and everything, but what about everyone else?'

The Doctor beamed. 'I think it's wonderful that you care so much. I'm leaving this in your hands.'

Her eyes widened.

'I trust you to spread the word, make a foundation, go on the news, anything and everything in your power to spread the word and spread hope to everyone like yourself. Do you think you can do that?'

She looked at her feet. With a sudden jolt of determination, she locked eyes with him. 'Yeah, I think I can.' Turning to glance at Clara then back again at the Doctor, she said, 'Thank you. Both of you, I just can't thank you enough. Thank you for stopping me from... well, you know. I can't begin to describe how grateful I am that I'm still here, to have met Gwen, and meeting you both was the greatest thing to ever happen in my life. I can't even properly describe how thankful I am.'

With a smile and a pat on her shoulder, the Doctor replied, 'You don't have to, you special girl, you. Will you be alright, then?'

'Yeah. I'll make it through. You've shown me that I'm strong enough.'

The two travellers hugged Catherine and left, shutting the door gently behind them. Walking to the TARDIS, the Doctor put his arm around Clara.

/

**A/N: Erm, right. Hallo, there. So sorry about the massive, Earth-sized gap in between chapters! But was it worth the wait, you wonderful, faithful reader, you? For real though, what did you think? Was it cheesy, awful, not what you expected, clichéd, any variant thereupon? Please do let me know your opinion if it's not too much of an inconvenience. I am open to suggestions for edits to this chapter. Quite frankly I just wanted the story to be overwith, so not a whole lot of effort was put into this last chapter—do tell me how it could be better, because it's definitely not my best. Whelp, that's all, folks—or is it?! Stay tuned, I have an idea for an epilogue in mind that may or may not happen. Keep on truckin'! Added 18/5: Holy shit, did y'all see the finale? Fuck me, that was mind-blowing. Pardon my language, just, damn. I'm in a fangirl stupor. Anyway, thanks for reading!**


End file.
